Sunday, 19 November 2017

It's in the Walls...



Gone are they that dwelt before,
no warning click of closing door,
no drunkard’s feet to pound the floor,
they’re gone they’re gone they’re gone.   

Gone is she enslaved to sink,
in fear of him his knowing wink,
for wild is he consumed with drink
(they’re gone they’re gone they’re gone).

No more she flung upon the bed,
a feast of lust before him spread,
abused and used and left for dead. 
She’s gone she’s gone she’s gone.

And there stood he of death accused,
found guilty then and life to lose
he felt sharp tug of hangman’s noose.  
He’s gone he’s gone he’s gone

And here evil dwells as did before,
it soaks the walls it soaks the floors. 
I beg you please ne’er cross this door. 
Be gone be gone be gone.

Anna :o]

Brendan at Real Toads challenges us to write words which involve Doors and above is my offering.  Cheers Brendan!

Also shared with the good folk at Poets United.

Brrr!  I’m cold!  The central heating’s dead and closed doors make little difference.  (Hopefully it will be fixed tomorrow.)

Image:  Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

25 comments:

John Buchanan said...

Wow, what a stunning piece of writing, so powerful. A truly masterful write. Thanks for sharing it with us.

Brendan MacOdrum said...

A feast of hungry ghosts here in royal rhyme. This shrieks in faintest details -- the only leavings of ghosts -- which are doors which truly may best keep padlocked. Or so to open, to let the sins be known ... Terrifying stuff.

Thotpurge said...

Powerful visual of the horror....

Anonymous said...

I wonder if the ghost of your dead central heating was muse to this piece ;)

X said...

Yikes. The refrain is rather haunting Anna. As is the story you weave throughout. Really heartbreaking in its reality. What hides behind the doors, and in the bottle, and those that are caught in the aftermath.

Very well written Anna.

Sumana Roy said...

Wow! So Poe like, specially the end!! But the main thread is a piercing sadness.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I really like the rhyme and repetition....moves the story along so well.

Anonymous said...

Reality is a door few willingly walk through,

Elizabeth

brudberg said...

This reads very much like a murder ballad... I can almost hear Nick Cave singing.

Donna@LivingFromHappiness said...

A wonderful rhythm and rhyme as life unfolds starkly with your words.

indybev said...

WOW! This is a chilling tale, well told in few words. Bravo!

colleen Looseleafnotes said...

A haunting! A murder mystery ode.

Sanaa Rizvi said...

My goodness this is absolutely chilling!! Great write!

Mary said...

I feel the chill in this story....it will stay with me!

gillena cox said...

A chilling one

Much💖love

Toni Spencer said...

The rhymes and cadence in this is spectacular. It puts me in mind of Poe. It is sad to grow up with a drunkard. Sad for all involved. This tale is cold and chills like the winter wind.

goatman said...

Lives lived (more or less). Very nice

Wendy Bourke said...

This is brilliant writing. I really like what you've done with the repetition of 'gone'. A well constructed, powerfully rendered piece!

rallentanda said...

The rhyme and repetition enhance the fear and horror mood of the story. Excellent poem.
PS
Thank goodness central heating is not necessary down here.Hope yours is fixed soon

R.K. Garon said...

WOW! Applause, applause...
ZQ

annell said...

You leave me speechless....you are right, they are all gone, good and evil, nothing to fear here, they are gone.

Gillena Cox said...

Monday WRites 132 is live, i invite you to link in

much love...

Susie Clevenger said...

I think of all the women who have lived behind that door and my heart aches. I agree that it does have a Poeish feel. Nice work!

R Vyas said...

It haunts the reader..so beautifully written :)

Anonymous said...

Good job, Anna. You write some pretty dark stuff as I often do. I notice a common thread in your writings: women with low self esteem who give themselves to very bad men and end up dead. Life, lust, death...